


Seek Forgiveness

by Piggie50



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Demons, M/M, Priest Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piggie50/pseuds/Piggie50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian is a priest who listens to a homeless boy’s confessions, but is the boy, Peter, really all he seems to be? Demon! Pan</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> BASED A BIT ON THE MANGA: Kodoku no Kane ga Naru AND SOME OTHER THINGS. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!
> 
> For images go to:
> 
> http://piggie50.deviantart.com/art/Priest-Killian-AU-1-441861759
> 
> http://piggie50.deviantart.com/art/Priest-Killian-AU-2-441863466

The air was cold and fierce, and Killian had never been more glad to have an inside job in his life.  
The lit candles from earlier mass were calming and peaceful as Killian patted the back of a young woman.   
Her name was Ruby, and she had only just confessed to cheating on her boyfriend; now, her eyes were swollen and her shoulders hunched.  
“Thank you Father,” she murmured to him, walking unsteadily to the door.  
He gave a soft smile for her benefit but it slowly crept away when the woman opened the door, revealing a lithe shape that stood outside.  
The figure stepped in, taking the shape of a teenage boy whom was huddled in an oversized coat.  
“Is it too late for a confession Father?” His tone was teasing and Killian felt distinctly uncomfortable for a moment, but he had a duty to all of God’s wayward children so he gestured the boy forward.  
“Of course not,” he said, hoping his voice was warm, “please, come in.”  
A smile gleamed in the dark of the night, then, the boy stepped in…  
Pinpricks of light played across Killian’s face as he settled into the confessional stand, “tell me,” he said to the boy on the other side of the thin wood, “what is it you wish to talk to me about?”  
“Well,” the boy sighed, “I stole from a fellow man like myself today. What he had looked so tempting I just needed to take it.”  
Killian repositioned himself in his chair, “what was it?”  
The light made the boys eyes flash, “if I told you that you’d get worried.”  
Killian frowned. He thought for a moment before licking his dry lips, “are you…in some type of trouble? Something the church can help with?”  
The boy laughed, the sound echoing, “oh Father, the brand of trouble I’m in can be helped by no man.”  
Killian thought that over, “if its spiritual trouble,” he decided on, “I can help you. The Lord is forgiving. If you seek forgiveness you will be welcomed back into his grace with open arms.”  
The boy was silent for a minute before his voice echoed, “I don’t think that even God could forgive me now. What I have done in the past is unforgiving. Only the devil is my friend now.”  
Killian flinched, never before had he heard such words from anyone. “This is not true,” he insisted, eyes looking into the darkness of the other side of the confessional, focused, “no one is past redemption.”’  
Bright teeth gleamed, sharp and harsh, “I am.” The answer was final and decisive. “I’m afraid Father,” he said casually, “that our time is up. I’m needed elsewhere. Goodbye for now.”  
Killian frowned, hearing the sound of the confessional’s door opening and closing, the quiet tip-tap of footsteps clacking on the stone floor outside in the church.  
Quickly, he got up from his previous seat and hurried to the door, flinging it open and looking around for the boy, intent on helping him, but, the boy was long gone…  
“Is something troubling you Father?”  
Killian looked up from where he had been staring into the flames of a lit candle. The question had come from Mary Margaret, one of the volunteers of the church, her sweet voice worried and her green eyes wide as she stared at him.  
Killian tried and failed to give her a smile, “everything is fine,” he told her, turning away from the candle, “I was just thinking about the festival coming up.”  
Every year the church held a festival that honored Saint Frederick’s sacrifice when he had battled and defeated a hoard of demons centuries ago. It was a spectacular event that took months to prepare, and it was also a handy excuse for wayward thinking.  
Mary Margaret nodded at him, properly assuaged, “oh yes Father, I can understand that. The festival this year seems much more popular than the ones past. I think we have more members this year than ever before!”  
Killian chuckled, “yes, God has graced us with many people this year. I’m sure the festival will surely enlighten their spirits and bring joy to their hearts.”  
Truthfully, Killian just wanted the festival to be over with. The festival itself was much fun, with games and good food that everyone enjoyed together in harmony.  
But, after the festival Killian would be alone, forced to go back to his small room in the upper parts of the church, sitting in the dark with no one to talk to. It bothered him, and made him feel entirely too lonely for his own good.  
“Father,” Mary Margaret was continuing, checking a list in her hand, “Mother Superior wanted me to tell you that she corrected Sister Astrid’s mistake on the flowers, and that she would properly punish her later on for her impertinence.”  
Killian frowned, “there’s no need for that. Sister Astrid made a small mistake, that is all. It was easily corrected. No need to punish her for something that was not her fault entirely.” He put his hands together piously, clenching his fist around his rosary beads, “Besides, I put Mother Superior in charge of those particular plans. She’s the one that passed them on to poor Astrid.”  
Mary Margaret looked a bit flushed, “…of course…I’ll be sure to tell her that. Another thing though, are we welcoming just anyone into the festival this year? Or is it just for church goers only?”  
The last year Killian had allowed anyone into the festival, causing some heated debate within the congregation, but that had been settled down eventually.  
“I think anyone should be allowed,” he said, moving around to help a passing nun with a heavy load of flowers, “it is not within our right to hold back joy from others, don’t you agree?”  
Mary Margaret watched him arrange the flowers on a nearby table, the preparations for tomorrow’s church service nearly complete. “Oh, yes. I think that would be wonderful.” She wrote something down on her list, and Killian imagined it to be a note to herself to complain about him to her husband, Sheriff David, later on.  
“Is that all then?” He asked her, turning back to fully look at her.  
She nodded absentmindedly, “yes, I believe so.” She glanced down at her watch then, “oh jeez, I’ve got to go pick up Emma from school. Sorry Father.”  
Killian smiled gently, “of course. Please tell her I said hello.”  
The woman smiled at him and nodded, already walking away, clipboard held tight against her chest.  
Once she was gone Killian sighed, arms sliding down to his sides as he leaned his head back and looked up at the artful ceiling of the church. It was going to be a long day…  
That night the wind came on in a sudden onslaught, making Killian frown as he lit the nightly prayer candles.  
He felt the new presence in the prayer hall before he actually saw anyone; a shiver going down his spine as the air seemed to change around him.  
Turning, he noticed the boy from before sitting in the very middle pew on the right side, staring directly at Killian as he blew out the match.  
“Hello,” Killian said, blinking in surprise at the boy, “I didn’t think you would come again.”  
The boy tilted his head to the side, “and why not? This is a public place, is it not? And, I needed a break from my work.”  
Killian started walking towards the boy, “work? What sort of work do you do?” He had assumed the boy was jobless, along with homeless, but perhaps he had been mistaken.  
The boy half-smiled, “I’m a collector of things, it’s more of a hobby really, I don’t get paid much to do it.”  
Killian sat down several rows ahead of the boy, leaning back sideways so that he was almost facing the boy head on.  
The boy’s smile widened, “it’s not a dangerous hobby, no need to fret. It’s just a hobby that I’m particularly good at. Some of the others are jealous of it.”  
Killian didn’t ask who the others were, “do you enjoy this hobby? Or is it just for the money?”  
The boy looked away then, at one of the stained glass windows, “what was that commotion going on here at the church earlier today? A lot of people seemed to milling about here, making a ruckus.”  
Killian couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Those were just some of the volunteers and helpers of the church. They were helping with the festival that’s coming up.”  
The boy gave him a dubious look, “they seemed to more of nuisance than a help.”  
Killian smiled sagely, “perhaps. A lot of the orders kept being undone or misinterpreted. But that’s alright. It’s all worth it in the end. The festival is always wonderful and keeps everyone’s spirits up.”  
The boy looked at him out of the corner of his eye, “and you do seem to care about spirits, don’t you.”  
Killian wrapped his rosary beads around one of his fingers, idly playing with it. “The spirit is the most important part of the human body. It keeps us hopeful and going.”  
The boy was silent for a long while, simply gazing at a statue of Jesus being crucified as Killian looked down at his rosary, watching his own hand spin the beads around and around.  
Finally, the boy spoke up, “you haven’t asked my name yet.”  
Killian looked up, his lips pressed together for a moment before he answered, “well, I assumed you would tell me when you were comfortable. I don’t like pressuring people into things.”  
The boy raised a brow, “right…” he sounded doubtful, “my name’s Peter. Peter Pan.”  
Killian smiled at him, revealing teeth, “hello Peter, I’m Killian Jones. You know, your name is good, strong biblical name. An Apostle. Solid in faith and mind.”  
The boy, Peter frowned, “yes…so I’ve been told.” He didn’t sound particularly happy about it.  
Killian licked his lips uncomfortably, “I wonder though…why is it you came again? Most anonymous first-time confessionals never come back. They wish to release some pressure from their conscious, and once they have done so they will usually not come again.”  
Peter looked at him sneakily, eyes flashing, “you mean like Milah? But, I thought she came back more than once?”  
Killian’s blood froze. Milah. How did this boy possibly know about her?!   
“How do you know about…” he couldn’t even choke out the rest.  
The boy leaned back easily in his seat, examining his nails as though he was bored, “easy. I am the one who harvested her soul, therefore I know everything about her. I know everything about you now too.”  
Killian breathed deeply, “…are you an angel?”  
Peter laughed, the sound echoing loudly and harshly around them for several moments before the boy gasped out an answer, “oh, don’t be silly! I’m a demon. Angels don’t collect souls, they simply guide them to heaven. But,” he looked coyly at Killian, “not if I get there first.”  
Killian backed away, the boy needed serious psychological help, and he would try to make sure that he would get some as long as the boy stayed where he was…  
Except, he wasn’t in his seat anymore, he was up by the candles now, eyes deep and dark, darker than they had been previously.  
Killian’s hand stung from where the beads dug into his hands, “Santa Maria…” he whispered, throat dry and eyes pricking with tears.  
“I don’t think she can help you,” Peter said as he ran one finger through the flames of a candle, “she’s been in heaven for quite some time.”  
Killian collapsed back in his seat as the boy paced across the floor, “you know,” he said as he kept glancing at Killian, “Milah was terribly sorry she didn’t leave her husband for you sooner. She kept thinking of you in her last moments, of what it would have been like to raise Bae with you, to spend anniversaries together without fear of being found out…”  
Killian whimpered, “don’t…”  
The demon went on, “she was in terrible pain, you realize. What with her husband, Gold, beating her to death. She thanked God her son wasn’t there to see the abuse. He was at a friend’s house, and she thanked the Lord over and over again for that. She knew that she shouldn’t have cheated on her husband…no other proper Catholic woman would have done the same, but, you knew Milah, she was never quite like other women. She was…more. And she tasted so sweet.”  
Killian closed his eyes, tears falling freely, thoughts of Milah, with her loving smile, her beautiful dark silken hair, and those brilliant blue eyes. His lips hurt as the taste of copper dripped into his mouth, laying heavily on his tongue.  
“She regretted much,” the boy was still saying, yet he sounded closer, as if he was in Killian’s own head. “Yet, she never regretted you…I can see why.”  
Those last words were whispered directly inside his ear, making him jump and startle. Yet, when he looked up he was alone.   
There was no boy. There was no demon. He wondered if it had all been a dream made from his guilty and deluded mind.  
But, as he looked up, he spotted one single candle that was brandishing smoke…a candle that looked to have been put out by someone running their finger over it…


	2. Chapter 2

Killian had met Milah after his brother had died many years ago.  
She had been a nice reprieve from the harsh world he had been experiencing at the time, and she had been kind to him.  
Sadly, she had also been married.  
Rumple Gold was not a patient man, and he was insanely jealous that Milah would find better than him. He kept her close with his money, and with their child, Bae.  
Milah loved her child with all that she was worth, but her love for her husband had started to disintegrate after many years of marriage. He was cruel to her, and she could barely stand it.  
Killian must have been new and exciting to her at the time, but he was also fresh, and he was nice and polite to those around him.  
He was everything she had wanted in a man.  
So, they had started their small affair.  
Killian never did anything inappropriate with her, he felt that it would be disgraceful to both of them, so they refrained any such relations beyond hugging and kissing.  
Then, Rumple had found out.  
Milah had been found inside their home beaten to death, her skull crushed in several different places, along with many other bones.  
Killian had mourned for years it seemed. Gold got off of all charges because of his wealth.  
Now, sitting in the dark of his room inside of the church Killian couldn’t help but think about Milah and how he missed her.  
She was a light in the darkness of the depression he had been feeling, but now, the darkness was back, but not in the same form it had once been.  
A demon, Killian thought to himself as he clutched his rosary close to his chest, breathing out a quick prayer to the Lord above.  
The demon would have to be exorcised Killian decided, it would have to be expelled from the body of that poor boy, and it would have to be done soon…  
It was a cool Sunday, and Killian couldn’t help but smile as he looked around the church yard which was full of people.  
The festival had only just started, but people were already milling about, and Killian was pleased to see many people that he knew.  
“It looks wonderful Father,” a feminine voice said from behind the priest, and he turned.  
There, with her small family, stood Mary Margaret, smoothing down the blonde curls of her daughter.  
“Hello Mary Margaret,” Killian smiled politely, “I’m so glad you could make it. Hello David, and Emma. Good to see both of you.”  
David smiled at him, shaking his hand firmly before looking around, “it looks great Father, I can’t imagine how long it took to put all of this up.”  
The area did look wonderful, Killian thought as he chanced a glance around. Balloons and streamers hung everywhere, and the smell of delicious food filled the air around them.  
“Daddy,” Emma said, tugging at her father’s coat, “I want to go and play a game!”  
David chuckled, petting her hair, “alright, alright.” He looked up at his wife and the priest, “if you’ll excuse us, I think the princess wants to go and explore the festival.”  
Killian smiled and nodded, “please, go and enjoy yourselves.”  
The two went, Emma tugging her father along vicariously towards a vendor.  
Mary Margaret smiled sweetly after them, “he’s been really busy lately,” she confided in the Father, “she’s missed spending time with him, though she won’t admit it.”  
Killian felt a small frown twitching at his lips, remembering he and his brother’s own childhood of wasted nights waiting for their parent’s to come home and see them.  
“She wants to be just like him,” the woman in front of him was still saying, “in fact, they are very similar now.” She was rubbing at her arm when Killian glanced at her.  
Ah, the priest thought, she wants a little girl to play princess and dress up with. And Emma is just not that child.  
“Well,” Killian said awkwardly, fishing for words, “she has a bit of your personality too I think.”  
Mary Margaret laughed, glancing at him, “I doubt it. But thank you.”  
Killian tried smiling back, but he knew that he failed.  
Then, it just got worse.  
Over the woman’s shoulder he could see a familiar face, and it made him sick.  
Rumple Gold stood there, climbing up the stone steps to the church yard, Bae close behind him, his dark hair reminding Killian immediately of Milah.  
Feeling queasy Killian wrapped his fingers around the rosary in his pocket, “excuse me,” he said to Mary Margaret, “I have to go and check on something.”  
The woman nodded, a quizzical look on her face, though she let him slip away…  
As soon as he felt able to Killian slumped against the cool stone back wall of the church, the area secluded by the trees surrounding the cemetery located there.  
Huffing out a breath Killian tried to pull himself together.   
Gold came to the church of course, but they never sought one another out, and Killian only ever interacted with Bae if any one from the Gold family.  
Now though, the man was here, in a small area where they would most likely be forced to talk to each other to keep up appearances.  
“A tragedy isn’t it, having to put on a show for the public.”   
The voice was trouble, and Killian felt the shudder that ran through him.  
Turning his head slowly he looked at the boy, Peter, the demon.  
“How can you go out in the sunlight?” It was the first thing that came to mind and possibly an idiotic question.  
Judging by the boy’s laugh it was indeed.  
“I’m just like you,” Peter said, coyly looking at him through his lashes, “just immortal and completely demented.” His smile was sickeningly sweet and showed to many teeth.  
Killian shook his head, uncomprehending, fingers digging into the stone behind him, “why are you here?”  
Peter tilted his head at him, “because I want to be.” The answer was so simple Killian felt like crying.   
Instead, a dry sob escaped him as he said, “please, go away.”  
Peter pursed his lips, “I don’t think so. You see Killian, I like you. Ever since I devoured Milah’s soul and saw you through her eyes, I’ve wanted you.”  
Killian squeezed his eyes closed, one hand reaching into his pocket to cling onto the rosary beads.  
But, the demon continued, “I saw you as just and perfect. And now that I’ve met you, I know it’s true. Your soul is bright and brilliant.”  
Killian bit his lip, tasting blood, terrified when he felt heated breath on his ear, “and I want to savor it.”  
Killian kept his eyes closed, breath bated as the demon reached one hand into his pocket, the strangely calloused fingers wrapping over his own and taking it out of his pocket.  
“Look at me Killian,” the unholy creature said, but Killian couldn’t help but obey.  
He watched helplessly, muscles strained and tense as the demon brought the priest’s hand up to his lips, kissing the rosary beads, eyes on his the whole time.  
“You’ll let me have you,” the demon uttered, “and you won’t resist.”  
Killian felt his breath hitch, but the demon smirked at him, lips red and terrible and beautiful all at once.  
“I hate you,” Killian finally was able to murmur, “and I want you gone.”  
Peter simply grinned wider, “perfect,” he purred. And that was that…  
Feeling disoriented and dehydrated Killian wandered back to the festival, the area now overcrowded with people.  
The boy was no where to be seen, and Killian swallowed dryly, sincerely hoping that he was gone, or that he had disappeared.  
But, fate was not so kind to him it seemed.  
The crowed parted as people moved around, and Killian caught sight of the demon as he stood by a tent, plucking pieces of cotton candy from a cone, staring at the priest all the while.  
“Father,” a voice called to him, and it sounded far away, but Killian started anyway and whirled around, coming face to face with one of his greatest enemy’s in the world.  
Rumple Gold watched him, dark eyes unfathomable as he leaned against his bejeweled cane.  
But, the call had not come from Gold, instead, it came from the boy standing next to him.  
“Father Killian,” Bae said again as he stared up at the priest, “are you alright?”  
Killian scrubbed a hand across his face quickly and let out a breath, “yes,” he said to the boy, “of course. How are you Bae?”  
The boy smiled angelically at him, “I’m good, I couldn’t wait for the festival, and it turned out to be even better than I thought it would be!”  
Killian smiled at the boy, the action real for once, “I’m glad,” he told the lad, “the church strives to make people happy.”  
Gold scoffed quietly next to the pair, the sound disguised so that it could be mistaken for a cough, but Killian knew better, and he ignored the man.  
“Have you been to all of the vendors,” he asked the boy, and Bae shook his head.  
“I wanted to say hi to you first,” he confided, “and Papa promised that afterwards we could go wherever I wanted.”  
“How nice of him,” Killian said through gritted teeth, sparing a glance at the other man, finding him glaring at him.  
Rumple looked sour as he put his hand on his son’s shoulder, “come on Bae,” he said, “let’s go and get you something to eat.”  
The boy smiled widely at that and waved at Killian as his father steered him away.  
Killian waved back but sighed heavily the moment they were out of sight.  
“Some man,” the of-so-familiar voice said from beside him, and Killian didn’t even have to look at the demon to hear the disgust in his voice. “Must have been charming to reel Milah in though.”  
Killian clenched his teeth but tried to ignore the boy, “he used to be different,” he said, “or that’s what Milah once told me.”  
Peter scoffed next to him, Killian watching him cross his arms out of the corner of his eye, “wonder what happened there.”  
Killian swallowed and turned his head, “Milah did some things,” he quietly told, “some things that Gold found disagreeable.”  
“Ah,” the boy said as he moved closer, “she turned into a whore.”  
Killian bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to speak any more on the subject.  
Peter seemed fine with his sudden silence though, “let me come to you tonight,” he hissed out instead, so close Killian could very nearly feel the boy’s teeth on his skin.  
“No,” he choked out, goose bumps gathering over his suddenly ashen skin.  
“Yes,” Peter insisted, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I just want to see you.”  
That reminded Killian of all the times Milah had wanted to come to the church to just ‘see him.’ She had first kissed him on one of those nights, and Killian had always felt regret over those times.  
“I shouldn’t,” Killian said to the demon, “you’re evil.”  
“Evil is in the eye of the beholder,” Peter said to him, rolling his shoulders casually.  
Killian rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “beauty is. Wrong quote.”  
Peter was too close again then, “beauty too,” he said gently, eyes roaming over Killian’s face hungrily, “and you most certainly possess that quality.”  
Killian sincerely hoped that he wasn’t blushing.  
Turning away he looked over the people around them again, noticing that no one seemed to notice Killian nor Peter.  
“Do they not see us,” he suddenly asked the demon, hands falling to his sides.  
“No,” Peter said, his voice bored as he studied his nails, “they see you, but to them, you’re busy talking with someone.”  
“With who?” Killian asked, hoping it wasn’t someone who the people would disapprove of.  
Peter shrugged, nose scrunched up, “someone who’s not them,” he clarified, voice impatient.  
Killian shook his head, confused and still thirsty. “I need to go,” he told the demon, “don’t come back here.”  
Peter looked up at him then, “you know I will,” he said, leaning back against a nearby tree, “I can’t stay away.”  
Killian licked his dry lips, “just leave me alone.”  
“I never will,” the demon said, eyes shining too bright, “not until I have you.”  
Killian didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply turned away and walked towards a random tent, tasting blood in his mouth the whole time from where he had bitten his cheek earlier…


	3. Chapter 3

“What are you to the others?” Killian asked, standing in front of the old dresser in his small room, already able to tell when the demon boy was near him.  
“Who,” Peter asked, sounding close, “the other demons you mean?”  
Killian nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he touched the small wooden cross on the dresser. The heavy rain could be heard from outside and it made the priest antsy.  
“I’m their leader of course,” the boy said matter-of-factly, “they follow me and I tell them what to do and who’s soul to eat.”  
Killian felt like he was going to throw up, “oh.”  
Contrary to what Killian had said at the festival, he had allowed for the demon to stay in his bedroom when Peter had shown up there, a grin on his face.  
Now, as he looked over his shoulder Killian saw the boy sprawled out on his bed, looking at the book that Killian had placed on his bedside table.  
“’The Power and the Glory’ by Graham Greene,” the boy read, then, he looked over the book at Killian, brows raised, “really? How boring.”  
Killian looked away from the demon, pursing his lips, a bit offended.  
“How can you enter the church,” he called out over his shoulder, rustling through the dresser drawers in search of some suitable night clothes.  
He heard Peter’s small sigh from where he stood, “ I was once like you,” the boy said, “a human. And since I’m one of the higher up demons I can come to Earth and I can enter sacred places.”  
Killian frowned, turning to look at the boy, “how old are you?”  
Peter grinned at him, sitting up now, “what’s that matter? I can assure you though, I am well past the current minor age.”  
Killian rolled his eyes, then looked the boy up and down, “you look about…sixteen, seventeen…maybe eighteen.”  
Peter scowled, “I was eighteen when I died. And that, my dear Killian, was a very long time ago indeed.”  
The priest furrowed his brows, “but why did you come back as a demon?”  
Peter sighed again, looking down at his nails in a bored sort of way, “I was a very naughty boy growing up,” he said, “in fact, I was so bad that another demon took a liking to me, and they brought me back when they collected my soul.”  
Killian raised a brow curiously, “can you do that to others?”  
Peter grinned at him, “don’t insult me, of course I can.”  
Killian turned back around and went back to digging through the drawers, “what happened to the demon who ‘brought you back?’”  
He heard the bed creak as Peter moved, “I killed him,” the boy’s voice said hauntingly, “after he made me into this I decided I didn’t need to be in someone’s debt, so, I got rid of him and began by own band of demons.”  
“So there isn’t any sort of…structure of demon order’s then?” Killian was looking back at the boy again, so he gave up on looking for clothes, and crossed over to the chair sitting near the door and sat down.  
“Yes,” Peter said, looking at him through narrowed eyes, “but I don’t exactly follow them. There are rules too, but you don’t need to know about those.”  
Killian leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees, “how many underlings do you have?” He knew asking these questions was a bad idea, but his curiosity was wanting to be satisfied, and Killian knew that he would have to repent for this severely in the near future.  
Peter smiled at him as though he knew the priest’s thoughts, “I have many,” he said simply.  
Killian frowned at him, “that’s it? Not a number then?”  
The demon shook his head, “of course not. If you want information, you have to give me something in return.”  
Killian shook his head desperately, “no thank you. I don’t want it that bad.”  
Peter grinned at him, “if you say so.”  
Killian turned his head away, feeling a flush on his cheeks as he cleared his throat, “I still don’t understand how you can enter holy ground,” he murmured under his breath, but of course the demon heard him.  
“I can enter churches and cemeteries,” he said, laying down, but propped up on his elbows now, “because I died in a church.”  
Killian’s eyes widened, “what? How?”  
Peter didn’t look at him this time, “I bled to death,” he said roughly, “I had been stabbed when I was on the streets. It was a cold night, much like the first time I came here to you. But, it was snowing then, and the blood looked so red on the white.” His words were mesmerizing, and his eyes seemed to glow, “people watched me crawl to the church, watched me call for aid…and they did nothing.”  
Killian swallowed, “but you made it to the church just in time to die?”  
Peter huffed out a laugh, “it sounds like a great feat when you say it like that…but yes. I made it to the church, to have the door slammed in my face as the priest turned me away. A dying beggar. Who would want that in their hall?” He turned his eyes then to look at Killian, “I curled up on the front step and bled out. When I came to again the Shadow was there, and I was alive again.”  
“The Shadow,” Killian asked, intrigued.  
Peter gave him a small smirk, “he was the demon who made me all new again.”  
Killian shook his head, “if I had been in the church’s hall that night, I wouldn’t have let you die like that. I would have led you into the church’s hall and held you hand through it all.”  
Peter blinked at him, “yes,” he said, “I know you would have. Which is why I think I like you so much.”  
Killian couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat at that, “you think?!”  
Peter only smiled at him, turning over in the bed, “I’m staying the night,” he called out, “I’ll be gone when you wake up, so just crawl under the blankets now and rest.”  
Killian stared at the boy’s back for a good long while before standing up and opening the door, “I think not.” He said, “you can stay, as I never turn a person in need away, but I’m taking a guest room. Good night.”  
He went through the door and closed it, only catching Peter’s answer of, “I’m not even a person,” just before he went down the hall…  
The next morning Killian pulled out the ancient tomes and began to read them.  
Ever since listening to Peter’s awful story he knew that he had to save the boy, had to save his soul and prove that there was still good left in the body that the demon had possessed.  
Now, looking over the books and flipping carefully through the old pages he found that everything the boy had told him contradicted with what the books said.  
Demons appeared ugly and foul in the scriptures, but, the boy Peter was anything but. He was fair to look at, and he had a way of beguiling you with a single look.  
At least the books had gotten that part right.  
Sighing, Killian leaned back in his chair away from his desk, running a cold hand over his face before glancing down at his phone, which sat a few mere inches from his fingertips.  
Making a decision he plucked the cell phone up quickly and dialed a semi-familiar number, hoping for the best…  
Killian had known Tinkerbell even before he decided to become a priest, and the woman was an old friend and colleague.  
They had gone to school together at one point in time, and Killian knew that her knowledge of Demonology was extensive and usually very accurate.  
Tinkerbell had always been fascinated by the supernatural aspect of life, and when she had gotten the chance she went to school to learn more about it.   
She didn’t mind the strange looks people gave her, and she was always willing to listen to and talk about odd things that happened to people.  
She, Killian, and Liam had been the best of friends for quite some time; but after Liam’s death Killian had grown apart from her, though he missed her sometimes.  
She was a fierce friend, and never really minded a joke, even accepting the name “Tinkerbell” that Killian had forced upon her back in the old days.  
She could always be found tinkering away at something when they were in class, and Killian and Liam had always teased her about it, going so far as to place the title in her nickname.   
Now, as Killian chewed on his thumbnail, waiting for her to pick up the phone, he was worried that she may have been angry with his long standing absence away from her.  
“Hello?” The accented voice said from the other side of the phone, and Killian immediately felt relieved from just hearing her voice.  
“Hey Tink,” he said back, voice hollow and ragged to his own ears, “how have you been?”  
There was silence for a minute before she replied, “where have you been,” she asked, “I haven’t heard from you in centuries…I was so worried about you.”  
She was there when Liam had died and she knew how hard he had taken it, despite his objections to her presence within his mourning days.  
“I’m fine,” he told her, voice warming up a bit, “I’ve gotten a job and everything.”  
Had it really been that long since he had talked to her? It must have been at least five years…  
“I heard,” she told him, crackling in the background as she moved around on the other end, “a big shot preacher now,” her voice was teasing though. “I’ve wanted to come and see you preach, but I’m not exactly Catholic, as you know.”  
Killian nodded to himself, though she couldn’t see him, “I know,” he said, “you never were very religious.”   
That was one of the things that had drawn them close together at one point in time; Killian had been doubting himself and his religion, and Tink had been the same.  
“So,” Tinkerbell said drawlingly, “what can I do for you? You never just call just because you feel like it.”  
Killian winced, “fine. You’ve got me. Are you still doing your demon research thing?”  
The sound of rustling papers, then, “Don’t insult me,” she told him, “what do you need? Some sort of exorcism I can help you with?” Her tone was teasing, yet when Killian remained silent she uttered a quiet “oh.”  
Killian sighed, turning to look out of the window across the room, “I have this problem…and no one else would believe me, I’m sure.”  
“Tell me,” Tink said, and Killian knew that she would trust his words.  
“There’s…this boy,” he started, “he showed up at the church a few weeks ago, and now, he won’t go away. He scares me, he knows things that he shouldn’t, and he does things that aren’t normal.”  
“What sort of things does he know,” the woman asked, and Killian could imagine that she was scribbling notes down in a new notebook that she had just started for his case.  
“Things like…,” Killian murmured, “like someone else I used to know…a woman I used to love.”  
There was silence on the other end, so Killian went on, “he told me that he was a demon, and honestly, I don’t doubt it. He appears and disappears so quickly I think my mind is playing tricks on me, but then…then, he comes back again.”  
“Do his eyes glow,” Tinkerbell asked, and Killian paused.  
He thought of the flashing eyes and felt a shiver run through him.   
“They flash,” he breathed into the speaker of the phone, “like gold and sunlight at times. But only when he’s angry…or being mysterious.”  
Tink hummed in response and seemed to be thinking, then, “do you really feel as though he is a demon?” She asked, her voice not at all condescending, just curious.  
Killian thought about that; the wrenching feeling in his gut each time Peter appeared, the way he felt afraid just from the boy’s presence, as though he was prey to some horrible beast.  
“Yes,” he finally muttered, “I think he is.” He hesitated, then added, “and I think I may be his new quarry.”  
Tinkerbell was silent for a moment before she said to him, “I’m coming there,” her voice dictating that there was no room for argument, “try to stay calm,” she demanded, the sound of a chair clattering against the floor coming from across the phone.  
“If he really is a demon,” she said to him, “and you really are his prey…then we may have a huge problem.”  
Killian felt dread tear at his insides, and he barely acknowledged that Tinkerbell was hanging up, the phone dropping from his fingers as terror gripped him…  
Peter did not come back that night, and Killian could not help but feel that God had shown his mercy in that regard.  
Tinkerbell showed up late, around midnight, in a taxi that held several bags, indicating that she would be staying for at least a few days.  
Once the cab driver was paid, and all of the bags safely retrieved Killian led his friend into the church, taking her things to one of the spare rooms that he had made up earlier that day.  
“Thank you for coming Bell,” he told the blonde, looking her over.  
He had not seen her in a long time, but she had hardly changed.  
Her blonde hair was twisted up in a messy bun, and her clothes had seen better days, but had a bohemian appeal to them that attracted many eyes.  
Despite her profession Tink did not dress or act like someone who was gothic or part of a cult, instead, she wore what she liked, and didn’t seem to care what people thought either way.  
“So,” Tinkerbell said while dropping her things onto the bed, “do you think he will come tonight?” She was going through a bag already, picking out a small pouch which Killian assumed held her necessities for her investigations, and a black composition book.  
“Peter hasn’t come yet,” he told her, leaning against the wall as she unpacked, “and he’s usually here at this time…so, no. He most likely won’t show up now.”  
Tink turned to look at him, one brow raised, “Peter?”  
Killian looked down at the floor, hoping that he wasn’t flushing, “that’s who he introduced himself as. Peter Pan.”  
The woman sat on the bed, grabbing a pen from her bag and scribbling the information down in her notebook, “interesting. Did he say anything else about himself?”  
Killian shrugged, “some things…” He felt a little uncomfortable about sharing the information, as though he was breaking some sort of promise or secret that he had sworn to keep.  
Tinkerbell sat on the small bed, digging through the bag once more to produce a handful of granola bars and a bag full of assorted candy.  
“Come on,” she said, indicating the chair close by as she chose a gummy shark to chew on, “tell me more.”  
Killian bit back a grin, reminded a little of the times they would spend over at each other’s houses in the past. But, that didn’t stop him from stealing a handful of candy himself and sitting across from her.  
“Alright,” he said quietly, as though afraid someone would listen in on them, “it goes like this…”


	4. Chapter 4

Killian and Tinkerbell had stayed up all night, and Killian felt exhausted the next day as he dressed.  
It was Wednesday, which meant that the congregation would meet to have their weekly prayer and bible school.  
Usually, he was glad of the company, but today, he was simply tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep the whole day away.  
But, Tink wanted to explore the church and it’s grounds, hoping to find some reason as to why the demon was attracted to the area, though Killian already knew why.  
Last night he had told his friend most of the things that he and Peter discussed, except the embarrassing bits, and the part where Peter shared his past.  
That, Killian felt, should remain a secret forever.  
Taking a deep breath Killian smoothed down his hair once more before tucking his rosary beads into his pocket and heading back towards Tink’s designated room.  
He found her sitting at the provided desk, looking into a small mirror as she swiped mascara onto her lashes, her painted lips parted in concentration as she did so.  
Killian leaned against the doorframe, amused that he had forgotten her usual routine after all these years. “Are you ready yet? Church starts at five, and you still want to look around.”  
She waved a hand at him over her shoulder, looking at herself once more in the mirror before putting the mascara wand back into it’s tube.  
“Alright,” she said, pausing to grab a granola snack, “let’s go.” She slung her field bag across her shoulder and Killian rolled his eyes fondly, turning around and leading the way…  
“This place is kind of creepy,” Tinkerbell told him as they walked through the backyard cemetery, trees shading them in the afternoon sun.  
“No it’s not,” he replied, running his hand over a nearby flower.  
Tinkerbell shook her head at him, a few locks of hair coming undone with the gesture, but motioned back towards the church, “how old is it anyway?”  
Killian glanced back at the stained glass windows, “about two hundred years old I think.”  
Tink blinked at him, “and you’ve never experienced anything supernatural before now? This place must be crawling with ghosts and stuff.”  
Killian pursed his lips, “maybe they like me. Besides, there haven’t been many accidents or anything in the history of the church.”  
Tinkerbell raised an eyebrow at that, “many? So there have been some then? So…what if this Peter boy was one of those victims?” She seemed excited by the prospect and Killian frowned.  
“I…haven’t really checked the history for that.” There, he thought, that wasn’t really a lie.  
Tinkerbell gave him an unbelieving look but turned back towards the path, making Killian let out a relieved breath.  
He didn’t know why he was keeping secrets from his friend, but perhaps it was for the better…  
That night Killian preached about charity and how all men should be humble and share what they had with others.  
By the time he was finished many were wiping tears from their eyes, or looking down in shame.  
Applauding himself on a job well done Killian wrapped up his speech and concluded that dinner would be served after the children were released from their own lessons.  
The congregation moved out of the church and to the dining hall, many of the previous audience flagging Killian down to strike up conversation with him, the priest happily complying.  
Tinkerbell came down for dinner surprisingly, and Killian was happy to see that most of the people either ignored her or questioned her on her profession.  
Apparently, as Mary Margaret told, she had joined the children after their nightly lesson was finished and had regaled them with tales of her demon hunting.  
The children had been most impressed.  
Killian smiled at those around him as he dug into his own spaghetti dinner, content for the moment until he looked up towards a corner, noticing a certain boy speaking with Bae.  
Heart stopping mid-chew Killian shoved himself away from the table and nearly stomped over to where Peter was talking to the smaller brunette.  
“Excuse me,” he called out pointedly once he reached them.  
The two looked up, and both pairs of eyes gleamed brightly at him, each for a separate reason.  
“Father Killian,” Bae said happily, “I just met Peter. He said he wants to join the church! Is it true that you’re thinking of converting him soon?”  
Killian narrowed his eyes at the demon boy, who smiled back at him with shark teeth.  
“I’m not sure Bae,” Killian said softly, “but Peter and I were just about to go and discuss that, weren’t we?” The last part was directed at the demon, who quickly stood.  
“Of course,” Peter said, eyes glinting gold in the light, “shall we Father?” His tone was mocking as he said Killian’s title, but the priest ignored it and started walking away…  
“What were you doing near him?” Killian growled out as the two came to a secluded hallway.  
Peter leaned against the wall, arms crossed, “I was merely conversing with him. Am I not allowed to do that?”  
Killian fought back the urge to bare his teeth at the boy, “no,” he said, “you cannot talk to him, you cannot look at him, and you cannot even mention him!”  
“Does it hurt to look at him?”  
The question was so sudden that Killian paused, eyes going wide, “what?”  
Peter stared at him, eyes glowing softly in the dark, “does it hurt to look at Bae and see her? They share some features after all. Does it hurt to think that he isn’t yours?”  
Killian clenched his fingers together to make a fist, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”  
The boy’s eyes were narrowing, “I think I do Killian. I think you’re upset when you look at him, but at the same time, you’re happy that there’s still a part of Milah in this world.”  
Killian closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore it as he felt Peter come closer.  
“You want him to be yours,” Peter whispered, so close now, “I could make that happen, if you wanted.”  
Killian’s eyes were forced open at that, and he turned his head a bit to look at the boy.  
The demon’s face was serious, and Killian could see the glow brighter in his eyes now that the distance between them had diminished.  
“Why do you keep trying to find things that will make me happy?” It wasn’t really the question that Killian wanted to ask, but it was the first one that came out.  
Peter looked over his face, examining him for a moment before he stepped back, “if you’re happy Killian, then it will be easier to make you mine.”  
Killian couldn’t help the begrudging laugh that rose from out of him at that, and he slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted.  
“Why don’t you just force me to be yours,” he asked, staring up at the ceiling above them, “you have the power.”  
He could almost imagine Peter’s rolling eyes, “because,” the boy said in a voice you might use on an uncomprehending child, “things are so much better once you’ve worked for them. I could have you now, but I want to wait. I want to savor the chase.”  
Killian swallowed thickly, “just go away,” he whispered, so tired of repeating the sentiment.  
“No,” Peter said once more, “never. I was made here, and I will break you here. I will never leave you behind.”  
Killian’s eyes flitted downwards, landing on the boy’s face, which was too close again.  
“You’ll be mine,” Peter whispered to him, breath fanning over the priest’s face, “soon.”  
Then, he kissed Killian, his lips soft and bitter tasting as Killian gave in, sagging against the wall behind him as he felt his immortal soul withering and dying…  
It was morning.  
Killian didn’t remember going to bed, didn’t remember anything except when Peter had kissed him really.  
Squinting, Killian sat up, looking around his room unstably, wondering how on earth he had gotten here.  
He was just about to roll out of bed when the door opened, admitting Tinkerbell into the room.  
She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, arms crossed, blue eyes steely as she looked down at him.  
“I saw you,” she said after a few moments, “last night. With that boy.”  
Killian’s eyes widened, and he felt as though his throat was closing up. He didn’t know what to say.  
Then, Tink sighed, bringing a hand up to her forehead to rub at it, “that was the demon,” she said, “wasn’t it?”  
Killian could only nod mutely.  
“He’s gotten closer to you, I can tell.” She moved to sit at the chair positioned behind the door, “he came freely to the church, at a time when there were many others around. He’s comfortable blending in. He knows how to sway a crowd.” She appeared to simply be thinking, blurting out mental notes.  
“He picked out those he talks to specially, they hold some value to you…they can be used in a way.”  
Killian sat up, leaning back against the wooden headboard of his bed, clutching his pillow to his chest as the woman continued.  
“He’s going to go in for the kill soon,” she said, looking up at him finally, “he’s getting tired of waiting around. He’ll start pressing you for more…then, he’ll finally snap. He’ll have you in his grasp.”  
Killian swallowed, “what should I do,” he croaked out shallowly.  
Tinkerbell sighed, setting her head down into her hand, “we need to set a trap,” she said slowly, “if we can trap him…then I can exorcise him, and he will be gone.”  
Killian leaned forward, “what kind of trap?”  
She looked up at him, eyes hard, “the kind he can’t escape.”  
Killian didn’t know how to respond…


	5. Chapter 5

Killian sat in the church’s garden on a stone bench, rolling his rosary bead’s nervously between his fingers.  
Peter had not appeared for many days now, and Killian was left wondering if Tinkerbell’s prediction was coming true.  
Peter was coming in for the final kill.  
Taking a deep breath Killian looked up at the surrounding area, looking for any trace of the demon.  
Tinkerbell had set up her trap days ago, and everything was in place. Now, they only needed their quarry to come out and reveal himself.  
“Please,” Killian whispered to the night, licking his lips quickly, “Peter, please come out. I want to see you.”  
The air grew chilled around Killian after a moment, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder.  
Peter stood beneath an old tree, staring down at a grave marker, his shoulders tense.  
Killian got up quickly and strode over to him, stopping a few feet away and looking down at the marker himself.  
‘Father Amorious Black’ it read ‘May He Rest and Never Fear the Shadow of Death Again’  
Killian looked over at the boy, confused, “who’s this?”  
Peter didn’t even look up at him, his expression was fixed into a sneer, “this is the demon that created me.”  
Killian straightened up in surprise, not saying anything, hoping that silence would coax the boy to say more.  
It did.  
“He wasn’t a good person in his lifetime,” Peter said, “he cheated and gambled, he whored around with many people, men and women alike. The Pope himself found him disagreeable, but he was kept in the service, as many followed him. He would rave on about everyone having two personalities, the good one and the bad one. We wear the good one as a skin, he would say, and the bad always follows us like a shadow.”  
Killian knew that he was pale, “what happened to him?”  
Peter glanced over at him, a smirk playing at his lips, “Father Black found himself drunk one night, and he met a gang of boys in the street. They were starving and sick. One of them asked for help, for a prayer, for anything. Father Black denied them that, and they watched him walk away with hateful eyes. Well, one of them followed our good Father home, and when he fell asleep they slit his throat and stole all that they could. Those boys’ never went hungry again.”  
Killian gulped, “who was it that killed him?”  
Peter waved a hand, “an associate of mine, his name is Felix. He died one day so suddenly. He was found in the river, his heart removed and body bloated. By the time I made it to Hell he was already there, but, he was happy to serve me again, like he had in the past.”  
Killian furrowed his brows, “you were the leader of the gang of boys?”  
Peter nodded, eyes looking off in the distance, “the Lost Boys, we called ourselves. Full of those without parents and without cares. I don’t know whatever happened to any of them.” He sounded almost regretful about it, but it didn’t seem to bother him too much, as he looked back at Killian quickly. “So,” he drawled, “why did you call me here?”  
Killian stared, eyes wide. It was the moment he had been waiting for. “I want to be yours,” he said, throat dry, “I want all of the things you talked about…I understand how unhappy I was now, how unhappy I still am.” Some of it was truth, and that always made lies so much better.  
Peter stared at him, eyes unfathomable, but glowing, “you would come to me willingly? You would be mine? Forever?”  
Killian moved forward, gripping onto the edge of the boy’s shirt, “yes,” he whispered, “I just want happiness again.” His voice cracked, and Peter’s eyes widened.  
Then, he grinned, “then you shall have it my dear Killian.” He swept forward, pressing a hard kiss onto the priest’s mouth before grabbing his hand, “let’s go. We can leave now.”  
Killian stopped, “wait,” he tried to reason, “let me go and get a few things…sentimental things…I just…I don’t want to forget some of the things that I’ve had in the past.”  
Peter frowned but let himself be led back towards the church, the doors creaking as they were opened.  
It was pitch black inside, and Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “why is it so-” he stopped then suddenly, letting go of Killian’s hand and looking down at the floor.  
Killian backed away as quickly as he could, staring at the demon as he grinned roguishly, the expression as angry as it was charming.  
“What is this sweet Killian,” he growled out, the sound hollow and loud as the circle around him began to glow.  
“That,” a feminine voice said as Tinkerbell stepped out from the shadows, “is a demon entrapment. You won’t be able to get out, so don’t try.”  
The circle had been etched in a special blue chalk, symbols all around, along with Latin phrases.  
Peter laughed, “you think you can contain me? You know nothing, stupid girl.”  
He waved a hand, and Killian gasped as the chandelier above their heads came falling to the ground, the two jumping out of the way just in time.  
“I am a master of demons,” Peter shouted, his eyes glowing as objects began to fly around the room, candles falling to light the floor around the room, bordering it with an unseen guidance.  
“I control everything,” Peter said, spreading his arms wide as he closed his eyes, raising his head before the blue chalk seemed to shatter and break around him, swirling and evaporating into the air until it faded.  
Killian edged backward towards Tinkerbell, “has this ever happened to you before?”  
Her eyes were wide, “no. But this might be able to stop him still!” She reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a knife, nearly as long as her forearm.  
It had ancient symbols on it too, and it appeared to made of cold iron. It was jagged and rough, and Killian winced at the sight of it.  
“I don’t think so,” Peter said from across the room, waving a hand as he walked closer.  
With an unseen force the knife was yanked out of Tinkerbell’s hand, and she was lifted from the floor, gasping as she reached up to her neck, which was quickly becoming dark with bruises.  
“Tink!” Killian shouted, horrified as he realized she was being strangled to death.  
“Stop it,” he screamed at Peter, struggling to his feet, “please, stop it!”  
The demon looked at him, “you have betrayed me Killian, and that is not something I take lightly.” He waved a hand at the priest, but Killian jumped out of the way, rolling to the floor and grabbing the knife.  
In a movement too quick to even realize what he was doing Killian leapt back to his feet and snatched the demon’s arm, bringing the knife up to his throat and making a slashing movement with a flick of his wrist…  
Everything seemed to stop.  
Tinkerbell was dropped to the ground as Killian choked on his own spit, staring at the demon as he fell to the floor, black blood spurting from his throat.   
Killian dropped the knife, looking down at his shaking hands which were covered in the black essence that made up the demon.  
His jaw moved as he tried to say something, but nothing came out.  
His eyes flew back to the boy by him, the glow gone from his eyes, and nothing there but dim emptiness.  
The demon, and Peter, was dead…  
It had been two months since Killian had killed the demon.  
Tinkerbell had left after a few weeks of staying by Killian’s side. He had assured her that he was fine, and that she should go back to her own life, lest she be fired from her job.  
She had scoffed at him, but her eyes were worried, even as she left to go back home.  
Now, Killian had gone back into his regular routine.  
Most of the congregation recognized that something was wrong with him, but Killian never spoke of it, and soon they stopped asking.  
Now, tonight, it was storming, fierce wind cracking broken branches and twigs at the old windows of the church as Killian sat in a pew, his rosary in his hand.  
As he stared up at the statue of Santa Maria he felt cold, and realized that it was not simply because of the chill from the stone floor.  
Spine straight in fear Killian turned around, thunder rolling over his head and lightning flashing close outside as he saw the figure.  
Black blood still stained his clothes, but the skin on his neck was fresh and new. Those familiar eyes gleamed in the darkness and Killian found that he could not look away.  
“You said you’d be mine,” the boy said in a voice that was loud and terrifying, “and I’ll hold you to it. After all,” he stepped closer, the door banging closed behind him, “Peter Pan never fails.”


End file.
